Kithood Lionkit's birth was supposed to herald the start of some kind of fairytale for his parents. But as seventh born and the only survivor of his litter... he was more the reminder of a tragedy. At least he was strong, healthy. But his mother Ripplefur was never very interested in him—the other queens always said it was grief from losing the rest of his siblings. But Lionkit realized later, when he was older, that that was just how his mother was.

She'd never really wanted to be a queen, as she was quick to return to her duties assisting the oracle as soon as Lionkit was old enough to fend for himself in the nursery. She did kindle in him his faith in Starclan—he loved her stories and the way she spoke about their ancestors was captivating. It was the only time he really felt as if Ripplefur paid attention to him, and actually liked him. Only when he acted like the perfect polite and devout son.

At least he had his father. Russetfoot wasn't an especially kind tom, but he took parenting his only son very seriously. His mate had given him one child, and by the stars, he was going to make sure Lionkit turned out to be a good one. Lionkit soaked up his father's attention like a sponge, heeding all of his warnings and steeping himself in his beliefs. He would do anything for just a murmur of Russetfoot's praise.

Lionflight looks back and thinks he's lucky he didn't grow to be an asshole like him.

Though the singleton did not have siblings, he did have friends. Well... one friend. Mousekit had been born into another lonely litter a half moon before him, and being so near in age, it made sense the tom and molly became close. She gentled his boisterous opinions and kept him humble. Their parents were always talking about what a cute couple they'd make when they got older, which always grossed out Lionkit and Mousekit. They were friends! Just friends!

Russetfoot always had a knowing look in his eye whenever Lionkit insisted that. He'd simply reiterate that she came from a good family, and wouldn't be a bad match for him. They were already friends, after all. Lionkit would roll his eyes and stick out his tongue, to which his father would give him a good cuff on the ears for. At least Mousekit understood him. She always did.

Apprenticehood Lionkit was ready for his sixth moon as soon as it came. His father had already taught him some beginner moves, and was impressed at how high he could leap for such a young cat. He was a little small to be a guardian, but Russetfoot insists he had been at that age too. He'd grow into his strength. He hears his father mentioning to another cat that he'd be damned if his only son didn't follow in his footsteps—he didn't put all this work into him for nothing.

And so Lionkit becomes Lionpaw, apprenticed to [mentor, description of mentor]. Mousepaw becomes an apprentice too, and they build their nests right next to each other in their new den.

As soon as he's out of the nursery, it seems like Ripplefur is right back in it. With a new litter of three. It looks his father's desire for more than one heir was going to be granted. Unless... he hadn't really seen his parents spending too much time together. He hadn't seen his mother in a while, either. And Russetfoot didn't seem excited that Ripplefur had had another litter.

Lionpaw quickly learns that these new kits weren't his father's. The reason he hadn't seen his mother in so long was because she'd been with another tom. An outsider tom. His acolyte mother... falling for someone who didn't believe in the stars? It was hard to wrap his head around. So these were his half siblings, not his full blood. And it wasn't like he was his mother's son.

Even though Russetfoot discouraged him from getting close to his younger siblings, as soon as Lionpaw met them, he couldn't bring himself to hate them. He'd always wanted brothers and sisters. And it seemed like, even after all she'd done, not even his mother liked them. A second chance, and Ripplefur still scorned her role as a mother. He guessed he would have be their only family member that gave them the light of day.

It was the first time he really disobeyed his father.

Ripplefur abandons her new litter just as she did him, as soon as they are weaned. And it is her downfall. Only days after she tries to resume her usual duties, she is found dead out in the territory. It wasn't an animal that had killed her. She had bled out, the marks on her neck evidence of a cat's bite. Whoever had done it had wanted to see her suffer.

Lionpaw doesn't connect the dots to his father until far later. Rose-colored glasses, and all. But his little orphan siblings seem to know right away. Especially Firekit. He is aptly named, not just for his bright orange coat, but for his never-ending hunger. Needlekit is more reserved, but Lionpaw knew she had inherited their mother's clever mind. Waspkit was the gentlest of the three, and it seemed all three other siblings silently agreed to keeping her safe.

They held a lot of hatred in them for being so young. Maybe it was because they were treated with such hatred. Lionpaw did his best to balance his apprentice duties and spend time with his little siblings, but guardian training was picking up. He wishes now that he had shown them a little more love when they were still young. But he was young too, and he didn't know the bitterness they'd all grow into. He didn't know what would happen to them.

Lionpaw hadn't really had time to make any friends in the midst of all this, but he still held close to Mousepaw. When she introduced him to her new friend—Brindlepaw, a few moons older than them, in guardian training like he was—Lionpaw was happy to adopt him into their usual activities. Lionpaw found himself liking Brindlepaw a lot. After all, they were quite alike. Lionpaw often joked that his friend was more of a lion than he was, look how huge his feet were!

Their duo was now a trio. And quickly, that trio became a quartet. Frecklepaw, a new apprentice, had somehow befriended their stoic friend Brindlepaw without any help from Mousepaw. The tabby tom always had a shine in his eyes whenever Frecklepaw was around—everyone could see it. Whenever they were out of earshot of her, Lionpaw and Mousepaw would tease him about it.

wip

(catches a hawk midair and helps brindle kill it, he becomes well known for it, brindle mentions maybe he should become a guardian after all—he denies it, saying it was sheer luck and he can't wait much longer to become a warrior anyways)

Warriorhood For Lionpaw, it had felt like ages he'd been waiting to receive his name. But looking back, it flew by so quickly. He is proud to be named alongside Mousepaw and Brindlepaw—the latter of which had finally finished his guardian training. He is named Lionflight, for his speed and jumping ability. He, Mousefoot, and Brindlehawk sit vigil in the night. In the morning, they go out hunting for the first time together as warriors. It feels like a new life.

Russetfoot approaches him with congratulations. He can tell his father isn't especially proud of him... he'd always hoped Lionpaw would switch to guardian training once he grew strong enough. Part of him held out just to disrespect his father. Maybe if he'd loved Ripplefur more, maybe she wouldn't be dead. He didn't know yet that it was his father who killed her. Nor would he have believed it.

With training off of his plate, Lionflight did his best to spend time with his younger siblings. They were coming close to apprenticeship now—and he wanted to give them a head start with their training. Especially since all eyes would be on them... what with their half-clan heritage. He would help them prove they were as much Ridgeclan warriors as anyone else, thank you very much.

He also realizes, settling into this routine, that something felt different between him and Mousefoot. When he looks at her, he feels his eartips warm and his heart soar. The way her eyes twinkle at him when he tells a joke, the way she smiles and laughs... it was love. And she felt it too. In fact, she was the one that confessed—he'd been worried she'd tell him off because of what their parents had always said.

Turns out, as much as he hated to admit it, it was true. And they became mates. It didn't make their relationship much different—they were still best friends first—but the conformation that she loved him and he loved her... they had never been so close. Lionflight couldn't help but look at her with the kits in the nursery and imagine their kits, at some point in the future. With loving parents... something he'd never had.

It seemed Brindlehawk had also been bit by the love bug. Frecklenose, now a warrior, had announced that they'd become mates. He was overjoyed for his two friends—he even mentioned that one day, maybe they'd all get to raise kits together. Mousefoot laughed at him and batted at his ears—she wasn't going to be like her parents and have kits so young they'd never had time to have fun. He agreed—they had plenty of time.

And besides, he had his siblings to look out for. They'd just been named apprentices... and surprising no one more than him, Lionflight had been given Wasppaw to mentor. He was barely out of apprenticehood himself! After giving his sister a tour alongside his other siblings much older, more experienced mentors he'd found himself speaking to the deputy.

They said they couldn't have thought anyone better to mentor her. She was shy, and needed encouragement—and she already trusted her big brother. Besides he was a level-headed young cat and had always done well in his training. He'd practically already been mentoring them as kits. Adequately convinced that the deputy was not going to change their mind... and not wanting to break Wasppaw's heart by reassigning her mentor... he conceded.

He would do his best, for her.

He had less time with his friends because of it—they were happy for him, but he could tell they missed him. And he missed them as well. One day when he taked Wasppaw with clearing out the nursery, he lead Brindlehawk and Mousefoot out on a hunting patrol just like the old days. They were just about to catch a squirrel when a shadow overtook them from the sky. A giant eagle, the size of which he'd never seen before. They always looked smaller when they were up in the sky. But this one was bearing down on him. No, not on him. On Mousefoot.

She was the smallest of the three cats—the obvious choice for the bird to be able to carry away. Both he and Brindlehawk watched as its talons sunk into her shoulders. Both of them tried to jump to save her—but they fell over one another in their efforts, each sabotaging the other. Her screams still haunt his nightmares to this day. He wasn't sad. He wasn't sad—he was angry.

He'd never felt this angry before. Not when his mother died, not when he realized she'd never truly loved him. It was nothing compared to losing Mousefoot. Nothing compared to the guilt, that he could have saved her. He pushed away Brindlehawk and Frecklenose and buried himself in training Wasppaw. He didn't want to hear any condolences from his clanmates, he knew the words were empty, he knew they wouldn't make him feel any better. Because it was his fault.

That anger he'd always seen in Firepaw had found a home in him. Maybe it wasn't his father he'd inherited it from, maybe it was their mother. Either way, it consumes him. He begins to believe the things Wolfstar is saying about Mistclan and that they are not worthy of the Mooncave. He knows Mousefoot wouldn't approve of it. He doesn't care. He wants to take it out on somebody.

But before those plans can come to fruition, he is struck with another tragedy. Because he had been careless, again. He'd just wanted to spend an afternoon sparring with Firepaw, when another apprentice approached them. One of his little brother's friends. But he wasn't here to play... he was wide-eyed and out of breath. He gasped something out... about Wasppaw. And the ridge.

(cw: gore, emetephobia)

Nothing could have prepared him for her broken body that day. She was hardly recognizable. His little sister, his apprentice... dead. In agony. A roar left his throat as soon as he saw her, and he raced off into the woods, leaving her and Firepaw behind. His claws sank into bark as he clawed at an innocent tree. All he could see was red, blood, her shattered skull. All he could taste was bile—he retched, and his breakfast left him.

He couldn't save his mother, he couldn't save his mate, he couldn't even save his sister. What a fucking failure. It was gasoline on the fire of anger less at the circumstances and more at himself. Enough that when Firepaw tells him that he saw Russetfoot at the site of Wasppaw's death, at the top of the cliffside... he believes him when he says his father pushed her. He wants someone else to blame.

He doesn't blame Firepaw for killing him. This time at least it wasn't Lionflight's fault. He'd had it coming. For a long, long time. It doesn't make it hurt any less, though. "It's going to be alright," he promises his brother, standing over his father's body after Russetfoot had tried to kill Needlepaw. It's as much for him as it is for Firepaw. He doesn't think either of them believe it.

--

It broke his heart to watch his children grow up without them knowing the truth. His dreams of a perfect, normal family—they'd died with Mousefoot. He supposed he didn't deserve it anyway.

(possibly change that he graduated as a warrior and trained to become a guardian later in life after mousefoot dies)

Pre-Plotting: Lionflight is the older brother of Firetongue as well as the close friend of Brindlehawk (and secret homewrecker).

Family:

Friends:

Romance:

Rivals: